Victory wins medals and trophies but redemption wins the hearts and minds of those of us who are consumed with sport. It pulls us in, demands our sympathy and support. It gives us hope.

The greatest thing about Rory McIlroy's US Open triumph this year was not that he shredded a field of the world's best golfers but that he did so after his capitulation at the Masters. Jubilation is a human story. From humiliation to jubilation is a human journey, a richer, more textured and compelling experience.

The young Northern Irishman deserves our appreciation for taking us on that journey with him. Yet Mo Farah deserves our appreciation even more. Like McIlroy he sought and found redemption on the biggest stage after a crushing, self-inflicted loss. In the 10,000m at this year's athletics world championship in Daegu, South Korea, he ran the perfect race until kicking for home 500m out – a tactical error that cost him a certain gold. Ethiopia's Ibrahim Jeilan caught and overtook him 20m from the line.

"I didn't have a clue about the guy. I had no idea of what he was capable of," Farah said afterwards with admirable but damaging honesty.

Young McIlroy had eight weeks to get over his disappointment at Augusta, more than enough time to regroup. Farah had just seven days before he was back on the track for the final of the 5,000m – against a stronger field, in an event that was not his favourite.

For those brought up on the greatest generation of British middle-distance runners, the parallels with Sebastian Coe at the 1980 Moscow Olympics are hard to ignore.

Coe, beaten in his beloved 800m by Steve Ovett, came back to win the 1500m that year. Farah came back to win his gold medal too, edging out the great Bernard Lagat over a pulsating final lap in which he displayed many of the qualities that marked out Coe as an all-time great. Indeed, spend a few moments on YouTube watching film of the two men in action and the physical and mental similarities are striking. Grace and power, courage and determination – these are the things that define a champion and Farah, like Coe, has them all in abundance.

Yet if the 5,000m world champion is a modern man who reminds us of our great sporting past, perhaps his most attractive asset is that he reminds us of our better selves.

A Somalian by birth, he is an embodiment of our multicultural ambitions. An immigrant, a west London boy who overcame the odds, a Gooner through and through. "His passion was football but it was his turn of speed on the pitch that showed his real talent," said Alan Wilkinson, his old PE teacher at Feltham community college. "I took him to a schools cross-country championship. He literally didn't know what was going on and ran in the wrong direction. He had to follow the other kids around and he still managed to finish second. A few weeks later we went to a county championship and he came fourth despite having no spikes." The dream of playing for Arsenal was over but he now had another dream to chase. Good for him, great for us.

Farah's ascent has not been easy and it has not been abrupt. Not for him the startling leaps in performance that have aroused so many suspicions when it comes to athletics. His career has the stamp of authenticity, not least in his incremental progress through the ranks – from county standard to representing his country, from somewhere in the pack to somewhere on the podium until finally, in the space of one week in South Korea, from silver to gold.

There have been countless sacrifices along the way, the most significant of which came at the start of this year when he uprooted his family and moved to Portland, Oregon, where he teamed up with Alberto Salazar, a three-times winner of the New York marathon and athletics coach of some repute. This was quite a risk for an athlete who had recently won gold in both the 5,000m and 10,000m at the European Championships. But Farah did not see it that way.

"I thought about it last year and the year before that but things weren't quite right and everything has seemed to come together now. I don't want to regret it thinking: 'He could have done that, he could have got me a medal,'" he explained in January.

"It's not a risk. It's about, as an athlete, how much do you want it? Do I want a medal or do I want to be thinking back: 'That was a great opportunity, should I have taken it?'"

It was hard to argue with Farah's logic back then. And it is impossible to argue with him now. Far better to sit back and enjoy his journey. London 2012 cannot come quickly enough – for him and for us.